


A pasted smile on a half-empty glass

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (sort of - Jon's thinking about Martin), Character Study, Episode Related, Introspection, M/M, don't read if the couch made you squeamish, episode 175 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 175!!!Martin is, at heart, an optimist. Jon cannot help but be a realist.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149





	A pasted smile on a half-empty glass

Martin is, at heart, an optimist. Jon has always known this about him, since the first day they'd met; indeed, it was one of the reasons he'd disliked the man, way back when. He, like so many others before and since, had assumed that his optimism came from naivety, that Martin was simply unaware of the true horrors and tragedies of the world, and he'd hated him for it.

He knows better now, of course. Martin is, and has always been, aware of how dark the world can be: he's been at the receiving end of it often enough. His optimism is a choice, a conscious decision to look for the best no matter how unlikely it seems, and he wields his hope as a talisman against all the world can throw at him. Jon loves him for it.

It does, however, make it hard to talk about some things.

Martin walks next to him now, hands swinging at his sides and a bounce to his step that has been missing for far too long. He looks focused, determined: eager to hurry on and find Daisy and Basira.

It's not that he thinks it will be easy, Jon knows; he's listened to and understood what Jon had to say about the state their friends are in now, how lost they are in their own nightmares. It's just that he believes, wholeheartedly, that somehow this time will be different, that this time, of all times, when it is important, when there is a personal connection,  _ this time, _ they can help.

Jon... does not believe that. Jon believes - Jon  _ Knows  _ \- that he is going to be no more use here than he has been to the victims in any of the other domains they have passed through. The only help  _ he  _ can offer is oblivion, fulfilling Daisy's last wish and removing her from this world so she cannot hurt anyone else.

Martin won't listen if he tries to tell him that, though.

Well, no, he will. But he won't believe him. The problem is, Martin's optimism is such that even in the face of incontrovertible evidence from a near-omniscient being, he will always believe there is another way, another solution they simply haven't seen yet, a way to  _ fix  _ everything, even when it is broken beyond repair. He  _ has  _ to believe that, otherwise he will give in to despair, and he can  _ make  _ himself believe that, even when that despair is creeping up on him in numbing paralysis.

Jon respects that. And he doesn't want to break it - Martin's hope is a fundamental part of who he is, one of his greatest strengths and practically the only thing keeping them both going, now. He wishes he could share it.

But the world has failed him so many times, and with such regularity, that Jon cannot help but be a realist.

_ A pessimist, _ as Martin calls him, and Jon defends himself by saying if the worst happens ninety-nine times, it's not pessimism to assume it will happen on the hundredth as well.

Maybe he is a pessimist. He  _ hopes  _ he is a pessimist. If he's a pessimist, then he can believe that the utter futility he feels when looking at their chances of saving their friends comes from his own biases influencing the information the Eye feeds him; can believe, as Martin does, that there  _ is  _ a solution, and he simply has not seen it yet.

That would be nice.

But he doesn't think it is the case.

He tunes back into the world to find Martin looking at him out of the corner of his eye. There's a small, worried frown tugging between his eyebrows.

"You alright?" he asks, as soon as he realizes Jon has noticed him.

Jon takes a breath, considering his response. He could share his thoughts with Martin, drag him into a long and winding conversation in which they cover old ground ad nauseam, could steal that bounce from his step with a reminder of the reason Martin is constantly worried about him. Martin wouldn't mind, Jon knows. He appreciates their conversations, appreciates that Jon will share his thoughts with him, that they are close enough, despite everything, that they can still do so.

But...

But Jon is rather enjoying this rare moment of lightness and hope, and he doesn't want to drag Martin down into his own dark thoughts.

So instead, he pastes on a grin. "Yes, I'm fine. I just can't believe you sat on the, uh,  _ squishy  _ couch."

Martin laughs, throwing his head back so that his hair bounces around his face. "It was a  _ lovely  _ couch," he protests.

"Lovely and damp..."

"Alright, alright," Martin says, relenting. "You've made your point." He tugs at the waistband of his jeans, wiggling his hips a little as he walks. "It is a bit... moist."

"Wait, are your trousers  _ still  _ wet?" He glances over, raising an eyebrow. Sure enough, there's a damp patch over Martin's bum, discoloring the fabric and making it stick to his thighs.

"They soaked right through, Jon, what'd you expect?"

Jon laughs. "And you  _ still  _ stayed there for the entire conversation? And wanted me to join you?"

"Misery loves company." He grins, and Jon marvels at the fact that somehow, even though nothing about their situation has changed, just talking to Martin has managed to improve his mood.

"Though I appreciate the thought, I'd prefer to keep my trousers dry, thank you."

"Oh, you're no fun." He says it lightly, tugging at his jeans again, trying to unstick them.

"Do you want to stop to change?" Jon suggests, watching him struggle. "And maybe we can, uh... burn those."

"They're not  _ that  _ bad," Martin insists.

"Martin, I  _ Know  _ what was on that couch. Trust me, they're that bad."

"Oh." Martin pauses, grimacing and pulling his hands gingerly away from the material. "...Yeah, let's stop."

Jon helps divest him of his pack, standing back and casting an eye out across the tortured landscape around them as Martin digs around for a change of clothes. They don't have far to go before they reach the edge of the Extinction's domain, and barely any time after that before they reach Daisy and Basira. Soon, all too soon, they will face yet another test, yet another crossroads at which their worldviews will collide. Jon is not hopeful about the outcome, and he is dreading the impact it will have on Martin almost as much as the event itself.

There's a disgusted exclamation. He turns back to find Martin, trouser-less, holding up the offending pair of jeans with a grimace that is halfway to a laugh. "Jon, you didn't tell me they'd changed  _ color!" _

"I didn't want to worry you too much," Jon says with a smile, and it is too, too truthful.

"Burn them." Martin flings them to the ground with an exaggerated shudder. "Burn them to ash."

Jon obliges, bending down with his lighter to hand, and they stumble out of the way of the choking cloud of greasy smoke that rises from the wreckage. Martin is still smiling as he pulls on his spare pair of jeans and grabs his bag again, shaking his head and chuckling slightly at himself for sitting in something so rancid.

Jon knows everything, but he doesn't know this: how Martin keeps up his hope and humor even in the face of a situation that is so objectively terrible. How he smiles, even in the face of a world that is crumbling around them.

Martin takes his hand, dragging them back into motion, steps more hurried than normal in anticipation of seeing their friends.

Jon does not know how he does it. But he hopes, someday, he might learn.


End file.
